Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  “Alright. So proceed with caution, but without the pessimism.”

  “I’ll do my best. Those two kind of go hand-in-hand.”

  “They shouldn’t,” Daphne chided. “If you don’t overcome that, you’ll end up losing out because you refuse to believe the truth that’s right in front of you. Not that it is, yet, but… no pessimism. Do you think missionaries have a lot of success if they go into the field, telling themselves ‘they’ll never believe, they’ll never believe, they’ll never believe…’”

  “Jonah did,” Claire promptly replied.

  “Yes, after spending three days inside a whale. Big fish. Sea serpent. Whatever. Then, after the Ninevites repented, his book ended with him sulking under a vine that withered when a worm chewed it. Is that really who you want to emulate?”

  There was a moment of silence, then both girls burst out laughing.

  “No! But you asked… Did I tell you we have an Egyptian sarcophagus here in the sorting room?”

  “What?” Daphne said, as Claire texted her a photo. “What? Oh my goodness, is that real?”

  “It’s not imaginary, if that’s what you’re asking,” Claire replied. She found her gloves, and pulled them on. “And whether it’s inhabited or not, I have no idea. Alec refused to look.”

  “Have you looked?”

  “No! Are you kidding? That’s a job for the archaeology student. He starts work Saturday.”

  “I guess he can tell you if it’s authentic, or not,” Daphne considered.

  “It isn’t, I can tell you that right now,” Claire informed her friend, as she rapidly sorted through items on the table nearest the donate shelves. “Smuggling antiquities out of Egypt is a crime punishable by hard labor, and a fine of up to fifty-thousand Egyptian pounds. Besides, no way could something of this size be slipped past customs.”

  “Then why don’t you open it? Aren’t you curious?”

  “Not that curious! Who knows just how eccentric Mr. Edwards may have been. This is a job for archaeology guy. If that doesn’t scare him off… it, and the rest of the contents of this tightly packed room… nothing will. Ooh, guess what we learned at lunch.”

  “No. Just tell me,” Daphne said, and Claire laughed. “Well, sorry, but I’ve got class in ten minutes!”

  “Okay, okay. The four second-hand stores in Ashland were broken into on the same night, and vandalized just like Juniper Creek’s thrift store.”

  “Are… you serious?” Daphne exclaimed.

  “Completely. How crazy is that?”

  “Very, and I have chills now. Be careful, Claire,” her friend said, her voice tinged with worry.

  “I will. I’m not going to end up in anyone’s sights. We’re just going to pick up some dry cleaning, and see if we can get a name. If we do, we’ll check out Variant Research Laboratories, and… see what we find.”

  “And how do you feel about Alec, now?”

  “Better. I’m going to focus on being friends, and that’s all. No pessimism, but no mind-reading, either. I’m just going to chill. And… that pretty much wraps it up.”

  “Okay, good. That’s a good plan. You’ve spent a lot of time together, so it feels like you’ve known each other longer than you have. Keep getting to know each other, and don’t prematurely insist on labeling this relationship.”

  “You’re right. No labeling. Friends is good. I’ll be satisfied with that, and stop spazzing.”

  “Good,” Daphne said with satisfaction. “I’ve got to go. Call me tomorrow, if not before, and let me know what you find out in Ashland!”

  “I will,” Claire smiled, and they ended their call.

  As she put her phone back in her pocket and returned to sorting, she couldn’t help wondering… what would they find?

  Chapter 11

  Puffy clouds dotted the bright blue, early morning sky above the road leading from Juniper Creek, to Ashland. Wildflowers added a splash of purple, yellow, and orange to the space between the road’s shoulder, and the pine trees which grew thick along each side of the heavily trafficked route.

  Every now and then, Claire caught the sound of birds singing, as Alec guided his truck skillfully around the curves in the winding road.

  “Why is everyone slowing down?” she wondered, as she glanced from the brake lights of the vehicles ahead of them, to the speedometer.

  “You’ll see,” Alec replied. “Look… to the right.”

  Claire did, and saw a state police vehicle parked behind the boulder that concealed it from the traffic headed into Ashland.

  “Everyone knows it’s there,” she pointed out.

  “Yes. And on the way home, everyone will know it’s parked on the other side of the road. I don’t know how many tickets the officer gives, but his daily presence ensures that rush hour traffic never rushes much past the speed limit.”

  “Wow. I guess that’s good, though.”

  “It is. Parts of this road curve abruptly. There’ve been a lot of accidents here. This is the solution, for now.”

  “Yeah, but that’s one point between two others. There’s lots of space on either side.”

  “There’s also another trooper parked somewhere along the way. The vehicle’s never in the same place. And sometimes… there’s a third.”

  “Really? I’m surprised,” she said, looking around.

  “The rate of accidents has dropped significantly,” Alec replied. “Look up ahead. Twenty-miles an hour seems ridiculous, right? It seems like overkill. But…”

  In spite of the arrows at the side of the road warning there was a turn, it was sharper than Claire expected. She looked out the passenger window, and drew back a little at the sight of the steep drop-off on the other side. The guardrail that stood between it and the road, was badly scarred.

  “Good grief, I feel the centrifugal force, in spite of going the diminutive speed limit.”

  “And if a speeding car makes it past this, then they succeed just in time to run into the mountain on the other side of the road—there—or they swerve, miss it, lose control, and go over the edge… here.”

  “I’ll warn the Blue Lightning to hold back if we ever come this way,” she said, clutching the armrest as she stared in horror at the gap in the trees, and the broken trunks, on the other side of the guardrail. “Has no one ever considered putting in a different road? A safer one?”

  “There is one. It’s also ninety-five miles, instead of thirty-two.”

  “Oh.”

  “Besides, the worst is behind us. It’s all downhill from here.”

  “I find your words lacking in comfort,” she said wryly, as she looked down at the drop-off on the other side of her window. Alec seemed to be amused by that, but kept his eyes on the road.

  “Quit looking, if it stresses you out.”

  “I can’t. I’m like a moth.”

  Alec laughed involuntarily.

  “What are you saying, moths are drawn to flames because they’re afraid of them?”

  “No. They love flames. They’ll catch themselves on fire, if they get half a chance. It’s cliffs they’re afraid of.”

  “Don’t tell me. You coated both sides of your toast with your grandma’s jam this morning,” he smiled.

  “How can you tell?” she retorted, giving him a sideways look.

  “As an act of neighborly kindness, I’m beginning to think I need to confiscate that jam before you start lacing your coffee with it.”

  “Too late,” she replied blithely. “Sure, you laugh, but don’t knock it ’til you try it. There’s something to be said for grape-flavored coffee.”

  “Yuck!” Alec grimaced.

  “And that, would be it. I bet you’ll think twice before accepting another cup,” she smiled.

  “From you… yes,” he replied, and shuddered a little. “I may never want coffee again.”

  “Sorry,” she said, trying not to laugh at the look on his face. The road straightened and leveled out, so he glanced at her and raised an eyebrow.
/>   “I can tell,” he retorted.

  “You’re right,” she replied, not nearly as repentant as she looked. Not repentant at all, actually. “I suppose it would be more appropriate for me to say… you’re welcome.”

  Alec laughed shortly, then deliberately reached for the straw wrapper resting in the cup holder beside their drinks, wadded it up, and tossed it at her.

  She caught it. She also looked pleased, and put it in the pocket of her light jacket. Alec gave her a suspicious glance.

  “You’re saving it for later, aren’t you.”

  She looked so offended, she more than half convinced him she was, in the brief look he managed to give her.

  “Alec, I’m beginning to think you know me.”

  He skipped a fraction of a beat, then laughed.

  “Yeah. So am I.”

  He had such a nice smile.

  Claire tore her attention away from her friend and his smile, and focused on the scenery outside the vehicle.

  Pine trees flanked the gas stations that dotted both sides of the road. Signs advertised food, lodging, shopping, and the university. The parking lot of the all-night pancake place was packed. The drive-thru line of the coffee shop next door, stretched all the way around the building to the curb. Alec glanced that direction and looked disgusted. Claire saw, and managed to hold in a laugh. He evidently saw the gleam of amusement in her eyes, because he rolled his, then smiled and shook his head a little.

  Two modest hotels faced each other. One was built in a lodge style, and surrounded by pine trees.

  “That seems sort of strange,” she commented, motioning toward the hotel on the other side of the street. “It seems like it should belong in the tropics, not here.”

  “If you think that looks out of place, you should’ve seen the palm trees after the first cold spell.”

  “Seriously?” Claire asked in surprise. “Someone really thought that would work, here in the mountains?”

  “If they did, they learned otherwise.”

  She looked around some more.

  “It seems like a nice place,” she commented. “The city, I mean. It doesn’t appear to be rundown.”

  “It isn’t, for the most part.”

  Alec glanced at the GPS, and stayed on the main road. Claire took in the sights as he focused on weaving his way safely through traffic.

  “There are a lot of cars, but not as many as I expected,” she commented.

  “You won’t say that if you’re here during the semester,” Alec warned her. “When the students come back in the fall, the population increases drastically.”

  “My boss used to joke that the only thing wrong with the university, was the students,” Claire remembered. “Not that he didn’t like them, it was the traffic that annoyed him. You work on classic cars, but you drive a modern truck.”

  “Either I missed the segue, or that was an abrupt change of subject. And yes…”

  “That surprises me, I guess.”

  “Okay… well… you’re into antiques, right?”

  “Yes, I guess I am,” she replied.

  “Alright. Yet, you don’t use an icebox. You use a somewhat modern refrigerator.”

  “Okay, good point. And somewhat modern, is right! But it works. And it’s cute.”

  “And when you moved in, it was empty of everything but mustard and mayonnaise. And you’re welcome.”

  “You did that?” she asked in surprise.

  “I did. Your grandma asked me to, and I was taking care of Herschel anyway. It wasn’t… no, actually, it was horrible.”

  He shuddered a little, but she caught the teasing gleam in his eyes. It must not have been all that bad, but she was still grateful.

  “Aw, thank you, Alec. I hate cleaning out the refrigerator! That was so sweet of you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he smiled. Then he looked sad. Sort of haunted. She laughed, and he glanced at her.

  “Then I go and ruin coffee for you. Some thanks, huh,” she smiled.

  “No kidding! Then, you go and ruin it when I try and tease you over ruining coffee for me! You’re breaking my heart, Claire.”

  “Yeah, you look real broken. If you don’t go ahead and laugh, I think you will break something.”

  Alec did laugh, and she did too. He stopped abruptly as his gaze locked on a building set back from the road, and he pointed.

  “Look, there it is,” he said, glancing at the GPS briefly. “We’ll save ourselves a U-turn, and turn right here.”

  “You mean left.”

  “I mean, I’ll turn left, right here. Seriously, did you eat an entire jar of that jam? I can imagine your grandma’s recipe was in high demand during the years of prohibition.”

  That struck Claire funny, and she laughed.

  “Yesterday, you said the jam derived its mind-altering abilities from sugar.”

  “After riding in the truck with you for the last fifty minutes, I’m not so sure,” he replied, as he parked in front of Arnold’s Dry Cleaning. He turned and looked at her. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes. You?”

  “Let’s do this,” he said, and they both climbed out of the truck.

  Beneath the large blue and white sign, the flat-roof, white painted cinderblock building was small, square, and unimpressive. The bars at the windows seemed out of keeping with an establishment that cleaned nothing more than clothing.

  A car sat idling beside the drive-up window. The burly driver accepted a garment bag from the employee on the other side, and carefully lay it on the backseat. Taking the driver’s seat once more, he pulled back onto the road.

  “What do you think was in that bag?” Claire wondered quietly.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say laundry,” Alec answered in a normal tone.

  “Maybe you’re right, Bess,” she retorted.

  “Bess? I deserve better than that,” he protested. “I cleaned out your refrigerator. And Herschel’s litter box. For two entire months. Plus, several times this week, since you claim to have such a hard time remembering how. Have you so quickly forgotten this, too?”

  Claire bit back a laugh.

  “Alright. No more Bess, George. Ned. Watson.”

  “Alec will do,” he replied. He pulled open the door to Arnold’s Dry Cleaning and held it, then followed her inside.

  The light was dim compared to the out of doors, where the sun shone brightly this Friday morning. Its rays, which entered through the large, barred, front windows, provided the small shop’s only light. Overhead, the fluorescent lights were dark.

  “Good morning, how can I help you?” the middle-aged woman behind the counter asked briskly. Her silver-streaked hair was held back by a net, and a pencil was tucked behind one ear. Her dark green apron sported the Arnold’s Dry Cleaning logo.

  “Hi, we’re here to pick up,” Alec smiled, as Claire removed the claim ticket from her purse, and handed it over.

  The woman frowned as she studied it.

  She studied it a long time.

  Claire’s muscles tensed as the woman shifted slightly, and frowned some more. Scowled, was more like it.

  The woman looked back at them.

  As she reached for the reading glasses beside the register, Claire released a silent sigh of relief.

  “Sorry, I thought I could get by without…” she said apologetically.

  “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Alec assured the woman, as she put them on.

  “The aging process…” she said. She squinted at the receipt, then held it back a little and gave it another try. Her eyes were moving, so she must have found success at last. She looked mildly exasperated, but also friendly, as she glanced at Claire. “I don’t recommend it!”

  Claire considered that, as the woman turned and sorted rapidly through the plastic-bagged clothing hanging on the rack behind the counter.

  “Well… there’s really only one alternative,” Claire finally said. The woman seemed to find amusement in that. She laughed, anyway.
/>
  “I suppose so,” she replied. She turned back to them, a hangered bag in her hand. “I’ll remember that, the next time I start to complain. Here you are, five shirts and pants.”

  “Thanks, what do I owe you?” Alec asked, as Claire accepted the bag and searched for a name on the attached ticket.

  There was none.

  “That’ll be $21.25,” the woman replied.

  Alec pulled his wallet out of his pocket, and paid the woman.

  Claire uncovered the clothing, and seized the first item she came to. A pair of pants.

  “Wait—Ned,” she said quickly, as she held up the pants. She managed to look concerned, rather than triumphant. “Are you sure these are yours?”

  Alec raised an eyebrow as he looked first at her, then at the pants. He scrutinized them slowly as he put his wallet back in his pocket.

  “Hm. They, uh… I’m not so sure.”

  Claire measured the pants against him.

  “I know you’ve been working out, and lost all that weight—you look really great, by the way. But have you grown? Like what, twelve inches? Is that even possible?”

  Alec’s eyebrows knit fiercely and he cleared his throat.

  “Well, I haven’t hit twenty-six yet. I remember reading somewhere that it’s possible to keep growing up until then. But, uh… this does seem kind of excessive.”

  The woman stared with wide eyes from the pants, to Alec, to Claire, and back to the pants again.

  Claire looked up at Alec and narrowed her gaze. She tilted her head from side to side.

  Taking her completely off guard, Alec pulled her into a hug.

  “What do you think, Nancy? The same, or different?” he asked, his arms still around her.

  Nancy—Claire—whoever she was—felt decidedly flustered. She ordered her heart to stop pounding, and for a moment, she struggled to come up with words. Then her sense of humor kicked in.

  Alec was pretending to be a couple. Far be it from her to leave doubt in the store employee’s mind.

  “Different,” she said breathlessly, as she felt his bicep and gave him what she hoped would pass for a melting look.

  Either it worked, or… he was about to laugh. She dialed it back. She also held him back, and held up the pants. She gave him, and them, another critical look.